


Blink of an Eye

by littlemisscurious



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, D'Artagnan - Fandom, Luca Pasqualino, Luke Pasqualino - Fandom, Sophie Turner - Fandom, The Musketeers
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Flashback, NSFWish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 11:04:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7100476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisscurious/pseuds/littlemisscurious





	Blink of an Eye

 

“D'Artagnan! Come on, we need to get to Paris before nightfall!” It was Porthos’ voice that cut through his thoughts as his eyes remained fixed on the dilapidated house in the distance. He was sure he’d seen someone, was sure he’d seen her in one of the windows on the top floor. He knew his memory of that time was beginning to blur and as much as he wanted, he struggled holding onto the images in his head.

_Slowly, her fingers trailed across the surface of the water, leaving tiny ripples behind as she kept on dancing around the fountain. The hem of her long, green dress caressed the pale skin of her ankles and as his eyes wandered upwards, he took in the fabric as it shimmered in the sun and enhanced her glorious, sinful curves. He knew he shouldn’t be here. And neither should she. But he had to see her again, had to feel her again, had to kiss her again._

_Laughing quietly, she kept running away from him, knowing that she was so much more nimble in her light clothes than he was in his heavy leather armour. Her laughter echoed across the field until it got lost in the summer haze and he stopped, closing his eyes._

_“Are you giving up already, D'Artagnan?” He loved how his name rolled off her lips but when he opened his eyes again, she wasn’t there. Quickly, he turned around and only just saw the flowing green fabric vanish inside the house. His sword clinked as he followed her, sweat already running down his neck thanks to his unforgiving attire._

_“Sophie, where are you?” His voice echoed off the walls once he’d stepped into the cool hallway. A large staircase wound its way up towards the first floor in front of him and he could see her footprints in the dust. Taking two steps at a time, he followed her upstairs, hearing her quiet laughter as it beckoned him along the hallway and into the large bedroom at the end._

_“Don’t make me wait. You always make me wait,” she whispered, already sitting on the edge of the bed as he finally arrived in the doorway. Her hands, adorned by numerous thin rings, caressed the bedsheet underneath her and without taking his eyes off her, he stepped into the room. Outside, he could hear the birds singing and a faint breeze played with the trees and flowers in the meadow._

_A few feet away from her he stopped and she still looked up at him, dewy-eyed and hopeful. One by one, he removed his weapons, his revolver, his sword, his dagger. They rattled as they fell to the floor by his feet before a quiet thud followed and the fleur-de-lis on his shoulder pad glistened in the sunlight as it, too, fell onto the tiles beneath his feet. Her eyes followed his hands as he took of his jacket, his shirt, and, eventually, his boots and trousers leaving him almost bare in front of her._

_Noiselessly, her dress slipped onto the ground and with gentle fingers he pushed away her long, red hair that had fallen to cover her breasts. A gasp left her mouth as his lips followed his gentle touch and closing her eyes she buried one hand in his dark, brown hair. When she sank down into the cushions beneath him, he couldn’t help but stare at her a little longer, still amazed that she was his for the taking._

_Her sighs and moans echoed off his own as they melted into each other, limbs and hearts intertwined under the linen canopy of the old mansion’s bed. Her fingers buried into his skin, his hair, the pillows underneath her head until his name – Charles – rolled off her lips into the warm and gentle summer air._

_Afterwards they remained entwined under the thin bedsheet, their skins glistening and their breaths laboured. Both knew it couldn’t last. His duties lay elsewhere and unlike her he had a home to return to eventually. It was the same each time. Neither of them wanted it to end and they delayed his moment of departure until it was unavoidable any longer._

_“Promise me we’ll meet again,” he begged as they stood by the fountain again, his armour back in place and her fingertips once more trailing across the shimmering, wet surface of the water._

_“I cannot promise you that, D'Artagnan. You know that,” she whispered, a sad smile on her face. Both knew that weeks, even months could pass before she’d be back in the outskirts of Paris and who knew what had happened to him by then. His life was one of adventure, of danger, of honour. Hers was one of chance, a constant fight for survival against the inevitable dangers of life on the run. She was an outcast and he was the first who didn’t care._

_“Stay safe, D'Artagnan. For me,” she breathed against his lips as they kissed one last time. Reluctantly, his hands slipped off her waist before he broke away and, with one swift move, mounted his horse. He knew she was watching him still as he rode away. She did so every time they had to separate again. But when he turned around at the edge of the field, as he always did, she was gone already. This time, she hadn’t waited to wave him goodbye because for once she wasn’t ready to. Not yet. Not this time._


End file.
